All Was Golden When The Day Met The Night
by Short Ninja
Summary: Rome Cousland expected her Post-Blight life to be easier. No Arch-Demon to contend with, helping to keep the Dark-Spawn threat at bay and the luxury of being able to roam Thedas. She never expected her life to include being married to a King, court life or headsplitting problems. Alistair/F!Cousland. Drabbles mostly.
1. When the Sun Found The Moon

A/N: Most of these are drabbles, depicting what happened after the Blight ended. Most of them are centered around my Grey Warden, Rome and Alistair. Rome is of the Highever Couslands. I'm 99% none of these will be in any sort of chronological order. As always, reviews and constructive criticism are nice, and the authoress appreciates the chance to grow as a writer.

Nonna is not my character, she belongs to a friend. I don't own anything except for Rome.

-

Zevran and Nonna are in awe. They've stumbled across a secluded and very private garden. It's a lush green, with streaks of gold catching the pond's blue water just right, and glinting off of it. Small ducks swim effortlessly in the pond, quacking at each other. Flowers of every color are scattered across the garden. Ivy climbs up the walls, and Nonna sees three different colors of roses.

Nonna then notices a lounging Rome and Alistair. She's sitting against a tree trunk with Alistair's head in her lap. He had his eyes closed, and looked completely relaxed. Nonna also noticed Maric's blade next to them. She's stroking Alistair's hair, and watching him sleep, something resembling fondness passes over her face.

"Isn't it beautiful? It was a wedding gift from Alistair." Rome's voice is soft, careful not to wake her sleeping King. She looks up, brushing black hair out of her eyes. And then certain flowers catch Nonna's eyes. Elfroot, Deathroot, and countless other plants that Rome has used on their journeys. It is a rogue's paradise. Now she sees the garden for what it really is, her own private garden for ingredients.

To the untrained eye, to someone who doesn't know Rome or Alistair the way she does, it would seem like a simple gift. A gift from a husband filled to the brim with love and passion for his wife. But she knows, Alistair wouldn't have gotten her anything impractical. Rome was the most practical person in the world. Nonna wonders slightly why the Queen needs the variety of flowers.

Is it protection from some unknown force? Or is it for a sense of security, a sense of security that differs from the strong wall that is Alistair?

Zevran has made all of the same assumptions, and he offers Rome a good-natured grin.

"I hope I will be allowed back, my fair Majesty." He speaks with a double meaning. A look pass between the ex-assassin and the woman under his protection. She catches on quickly, studying Zevran. Nonna notices the small distrust in her eyes. There have been five attempts now. Rome and Alistair are painfully fair rulers, they have no agenda to put first. They are kind, but Nonna quickly caught on that their kindness was not to be mistaken for weakness.

"Of course. I just hope you don't pick all of the flowers. Some of these are very rare, from the far reaches of Antiva and Orlais."

This garden is protection. Protection for Alistair, in case he is poisoned. Rome is distrustful of the staff, and Nonna makes a note to attend to this. It is her job to do everything her Queen can't.

"All the better, my dear. Nonna, I believe we should leave the good Queen to her thoughts. Call upon us if anything is needed."

Nonna bows, and Zevran does the same. She feels Rome's eyes staring holes into her back as they leave.

–


	2. She Was Drinking Tea In A Garden

A/N: I usually don't write fluff. This chapter isn't complete fluff so, yeah.

Leliana sat with Rome on the floor of her bedroom. She was brushing out the long locks of raven hair.

"A masquerade party. You have such lovely ideas, Leliana." Rome murmured, relaxing her eyes. The calming feel of the soft brushing was a nice change from the headaches of office.

"Thank you, my lady. It is nice to have a little glamor in your life every once in a while. Especially when you insist on working yourself to death." Leliana chided softly, her Orlesian accent still prominent.

"There's just so much to do. So many people to take care of. I have to, _have to_, take a trip to the Free Marches. There's many of our citizens that fled the Blight over there."

"Rome, that is a worry for tomorrow. Just enjoy tonight."

Leliana means it well, and Rome tries, but it is much harder than she expects. Leliana pulls out a dress. A beautiful white dress, with so many embroiders dancing across the dress she can hardly look away. Her fingers trace the designs, and little diamonds sparkle in the candle light.

"Oh Leliana... It looks like a fairy-tale dress." Rome's voice is breathy.

"It is, my lady. This is your fairy-tale. You are the Queen who married her one true love."

Rome smiles.

"My life would be easier if it were a fairy-tale. Wynne could wave her wand and make everything better."

Leliana smiles and helps her into the dress. Two white straps hold the dress up. The dress is flows around her legs. Leliana straps a belt to her waist, a white one that matches the dress.

"There. That is for that beautiful sword of Maric's."

"You thought of everything." Rome says.

"Well, if Orlesians know anything, it is fashion. No details are spared or forgotten."

Leliana presents her the mask, which is as beautiful as the dress. White feathers are at the corner of the right eye. Clear gemstones sparkle. Leliana helps her put the mask on, which covers most of her face. Except for her small nose and mouth.

"Next time, I want armor." She murmurs, twirling slowly in the mirror.

"Not a chance in the Void! We did not camp out in the middle of nowhere for a year to wear armor to balls!" Leliana exclaims.

–

The ball is decorated as beautifully as her dress. The designs that accentuate the ball room are subtle, a word that Rome hadn't been sure Leliana knew the meaning of. There's live music, and everyone is enjoying themselves by the time she is presented.

It is still something she has not gotten used to. It's been three months since her wedding day and she's still paraded about. There's still the charm and status of being the Hero of Ferelden. All the eyes turn towards her. Noble women of lesser importance giggle and flock to each other. It doesn't take a genius to figure out their speaking of her. It's something she's used to.

Rome raises her head proudly. Their words hold no substance and do not affect her at all. She is queen, and she isn't allowed to be anything but cordial. Alistair holds out his hand for her when she approaches. First dance is awarded to the King and Queen. Leliana has planned this down to the last detail.

Alistair smiles, and the noble women are long forgotten. He's wearing a dark armor that contrasts with hers.

Their moves are coordinated. Hers are graceful. She transferred the basics of dueling to dancing. Because in a way, dueling was her deadly dance of choice. It had taken more than a few sessions with a private instructor to achieve grace with Alistair.

"You look beautiful." He tells her as the dance ends.

"Only because I let Lei have free reign."

He kisses her softly.

"Regardless."

Someone steps in Alistair's place for a dance with her. She easily recognizes Fergus, even with the mask on.

"You came." Her voice breaks for a second. "It's so nice to have you here. How long are you staying?" Her excitement rises as they twirl around the floor.

"A couple of days. It's all I could manage."

The dance ends and Rome ends up hugging Fergus tightly. He hugs her back.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"I had to make sure he was taking care of my baby sister." Fergus smiles, at something. "Though I suppose you aren't much of a baby anymore."

"One would think being Queen makes you this unbreakable person." Another dance starts, and she deflects noble women from dancing with her widower brother. She has two days with her brother and she is going to be selfish. "But it doesn't. I'll always need you, Fergus. You are someone I trust and that is a rare thing at Court."

The music stops, along with everyone on the floor. There aren't to many people left. Most of the nobles have quietly left, to tired or drunk to care about the politics of just leaving.

She bade her brother goodnight and let Alistair lead her to their room. He kisses her against the wall, and she feels like a part of the stone.

Her hips rock against his. She couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, or the pure attraction that had brought her so close to him. She was hyper-aware of her surroundings, of the stone digging into her shoulder-blades, into her back. She gripped at his hair, begging.

He went slow, setting her skin on fire. Every touch was a new sensation. His hand rests on her chest, right over her heavily strumming heart. His lips met the smooth skin of her neck. She couldn't help the whimper that escapes her throat. Amusement flicks over his face, amusement over the fact that he has her so riled up. His eyebrow quirks upwards, as if he was trying to figure out something in his mind.

He finally made up his mind and steps backwards, making the young woman try to grasp at the wall for balance.

"Come finish what you started." Rome purrs, gaining her balance quickly, something that didn't surprise him. He gave her a half cocked smile and returned to his spot. She melts heavily into his touch. He slowly worked her dress off, ignoring her pleas for him to hurry because she couldn't stand the wait.

The stone was freezing, and felt good in comparison to her body heat levels, which were steadily rising with every touch. He knew all of her weak spots, and in turn so did she. She knew the place on his shoulder, that if she bit just right, would turn him to putty.

A crash and a scream that resounds through the halls, making her damn the distraction to the Void.

He is still in his light armor. He unsheathes his sword before opening the door. He quietly shuts the door before turning to her.

"The castle is under siege."

"Shit."

–

A/N: That turned out to be much more than a drabble. Part one of two? Thanks for the favorites and putting this story on your alert list. It means a lot to me.


	3. Under the Green Umbrella Trees

Her armor fit as well as ever. Alistair fought at her back in the hallway. The sounds of battle bounced off the walls. They clear the hall with relative ease. Rome kneels at the man with the best armor. He is quite obviously a Crow. The fury burns intensely within her blood. They've come for Zevran and she will be bloody well damned before they have him.

"The Crows have come for Zevran. What do you say they get a proper Ferelden welcome?"

"Well, we are gracious hosts..."

Rome smirks, and strides down the hallway. Her movements are precise and angry, but it takes a hell of a lot of concentration to realize the anger that seeps into every step. It does not take them long to find Zevran and his little Elf mage, Nonna in the Grand Hall back to back fighting off waves of Crows.

When they get down to the last one, and the hardest one to kill, it becomes clear that he is the leader. Zevran and herself bind him quite easily. Two rogues are always better than one. He doesn't struggle with his binds, and Rome smiles at this.

"So, the Crows have finally come to collect, hmm?" Zevran threw a glance her way. "I will have to deal with them. I suppose I knew this would happen."

Rome silently watches him, trying to figure out his next move in her head.

"If her majesty does not mind, I would like to travel to Antiva and deal with this little problem."

"Of course not. Would you like for me to accompany you? It'd be just like old times."

"Old times? You make us sound like war-weary veterans. But no, I do not. You are needed more here with Alistair."

A longing look passes over Rome's Cousland features. A twinge of guilt gnaws at Alistair's heart.

"And you, my little Elf mage." He turns to the petite woman behind him. "You will stay here and make sure our Queen doesn't go mad within these walls trying to fix everything." It is odd to hear words like these from Zevran. He's obviously thought of this more than she thought. A flash of understanding fills the Elf's warm eyes and she nods.

"Of course, love." There's something in Nonna's voice though. Rome knew that tone very well. It was the 'I'll agree now but we'll talk about this later' voice. "Their majesties must be tired. We should let them leave." The girl's voice is low. Zevran nods.

Rome turns on her heel and waves a hand over her shoulder.

"Do what you wish with him. He came here for you."

–

Zevran leaves without goodbyes for anyone but Nonna. He leaves while it is still dark. It's a rogue's basic instinct to travel at dark and alone. The darkness hides them better than any shield could.

Rome learns of his disappearance the next morning. There were only a few deaths, of guards trying to protect the Antivan Crow and his mage. Alistair wraps his arms around her and she lets him shoulder her weight for a few moments.

"Zevran will be fine. He's a Antivan Crow. He convinced _you_ that he should be the one to watch your back. He's lasted this long..."

Rome wiggles out of Alistair's firm grasp and opens the curtains. Sunlight temporarily blinds her as she walks forward.

"Is it just me or do you have this nagging feeling that everything is going to get worse?" She asks quietly, staring out at the city.

"That's not ominous at all."

Rome glances over her shoulder at him. There is no smile, nothing but a emotionless mask covering her face.

Alistair did not know what to say to ease whatever she was feeling. There was not much to say. And so he brings something up that he has been waiting to. It's going to separate them for a time, which is something he cannot stand but... He is King. There is no room to be selfish.

"The Grey Wardens in Amaranthine have asked for you to over-see a few things."

–


	4. In the Middle of Summer

Everyone bustled around, preparing for the coronation. His coronation. The one of a royal bastard. A little tidbit enters his mind; something useless Zevran told him what seemed like forever ago. The Antivan Royal line stemmed from royal bastards many times over.

Would his child be a royal bastard? Would they never glean the look Rome got when she was bathing in victory? What about her kindness? It is rare to see such selflessness. He remembered thinking about that when she first told him what happened in Highever. How many people would honestly keep going strong after that?

He watches her silently. Rome is leading the preparations the best she can. Leliana had been called by the Chantry in Orlais, for something or other. She's radiating calmness as everyone else around her finds problems and other maladies that the Princess-Consort herself needs to deal with.

Alistair also notices Kuma who is lying very near Rome's side. Every few moments Rome pats the top of his head. Every once in a while a passing servant will drop of scrap of meat or a small biscuit for the dog. A portly noble woman approached Rome and being ticking off problems that Rome needed to remedy. Rome smiled and nodded.

He watched as Kuma nudged the woman's leg, as if telling her to go away and leave his master alone. When the nobles had finally left her alone, Rome slipped away. Kuma followed her into a hallway away from the Throne Room.

Alistair followed her trail, hiding in the shadows. Maker forbid one of the nobles catch their would-be King sneaking off.

"And there is my beautiful Warden."

She tossed him a look, a tired smile gracing her prominent Cousland features.

"Off hiding again? You won't be able to hide for very long, as clumsy as you are."

"I resent that!" He countered. He sauntered over to her side, taking her calloused hand in his. She complained one night that the maid girls fretted themselves to death over her hands. The calloused hands were a way of life, for a very long time. They didn't bother her much.

"Oh? I remember trying to help set up camp with Wynne and you _and_ Kuma were rough-housing, knocking over the two tents already set up."

Kuma whined slightly at this. Alistair winced. They had gotten a scolding for not watching where they were playing and that she and Wynne had been hard at work so he and the others could sleep in a dry tent. He noticed a sad smile on her pretty face.

"It won't be as bad as you think. There'll be plenty of chances for you to leave and go schmooze up some foreign leaders."

Alistair wrapped his arm around her small waist, and they walked with hips bumping.

"And be as cruel as to leave you here to fend for yourself? I think not, dear love."

The kitchens were quiet, dinner was well over. Rome found a package of cookies and jumped back onto a counter. She munched on one quietly as Kuma sniffed around.

"Find any giant rats, boy?" She asked, a knowing smile playing on her face. Kuma growled, making her outright laugh. "No, I don't suppose you would. We might have a giant infestation though. I suppose that's an adventure for another day."

Two servant children ran through the kitchen, a little girl giggling when the boy tried to catch her. Rome sighed and took another cookie.

"What are we going to do when the Council demands we have children?"

"Tell them there's already a little child borne of a Bastard of the Throne and an evil forest mage out there somewhere?"

Rome's boot connected with his side.

"We have time, love. There's no use in worrying about it right now." His voice was soft. He knew that she had been thinking of these sorts of things. What was expected of them as a royal couple and how she couldn't live up to the standards that were set. Even if she had easily broken the mold of what was expected of her before.

"You're right. I know, I know. It's something you're not used to hearing." She worked to hide a smile, but it didn't work.

"Ooh, not at all. Just give me a moment to let this settle in."

She laughed, and before he knew it, her lips were on hers. She tasted sweet… Rome broke away and slid off the counter. She took his hand and gave him a _look_. He quite happily let her lead him to their apartments.

A/N: I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.


	5. Do You Know What I'm Seeing?

Anders hands glow a deep blue color, hovering over the petite woman's scar ridden body. Her amber eyes are closed, and he tries to hurry for her sake. The grand bedroom is filled with sunshine and fresh air. He's aware of a little Elven girl, sitting next to Rome and holding her hand. She's instructing him with her quiet but commanding voice. There's an ancient Tevinter scroll in her cautious hand.

He wonders for a moment how he was convinced that this was a worthy way to spend his time. Was it the way that she spoke in such conviction to Zevran? That she would not make Alistair watch her swell with another man's child? She swore would not.

And after that he made a short trip to the Tevinter Imperium, flashing the name of the Queen of Ferelden's personal physician around to get scrolls loaned to him on childbearing and spells to help with conceiving. No one had mentioned asking for the Circle's help on the matter and that was just fine and dandy with him.

In a rare show of letting her guard down, Rome opens her eyes and looks at Nonna. Rome's eyes are filled with hope.

"I want this so terribly bad. I would do anything…"

Nonna or Anders don't point out that she's nearly worn herself out trying to figure how to fix everyone's problems. Rome's still young, still learning. As cunning as she is, there's trial and error.

Anders smiles at her, a sly look passing over his face.

"Don't go selling your soul or body now. Demons usually don't accept refunds."

Rome gives him a smile, and he tucks it away for a rainy day. In the privacy of her own room, she's allowed to smile and jest with them. They don't expect her to be stoic or humorless. Anders takes his hands away from her cool skin and wipes the sweat from his brow.

Rome strains to sit up, even with Anders and Nonna's help.

"Shh. You might be a little more tired than usual."

"What'd you do? Can you explain it?" Rome looks to Anders and he rubs the back of his neck.

"I…" Ander's eyebrows furrow, as he tries to figure a way of explaining the process he just performed. "I gave up a part of myself to try and heal you. I integrated my energy with yours and focused on your womanly areas, and healing that. Your body is a bit strained with all of the extra energy, but your body's tolerance to the extra, needed energy will increase."

Rome bites her lip, as if she was going to oppose him being so self-sacrificial. She rested a hand on her stomach and nodded. She took Ander's hand in her other one.

"Thank you." She whispers.

"Of course. The Palace is too quiet without the pitter patter of little Rome and Alistair's running around."

A/N: A lot of the old Tevinter magic (and how it works in my mind) was derived from Avatar the Last Airbender and Katara's abilities with healing and bloodbending. In my opinion, that was a form of magic, you were just limited to your elementals.

I believe with spirit healing, if you were versed enough in it (and I honestly believe Anders is) you would be able to "see" in a sense of what was happening in the body and concentrate on fixing it. I also believe with major spirit healing, you give up a part of yourself to the person. Not that much, but enough.

I hope that made sense. It made sense in my head.

Till next chapter(which is almost finished).


	6. She Had the World

A/N: I'm really trying to figure out how this would even be possible. I'm trying my hardest to make it plausible without completely screwing with the canon of the Grey Wardens and the effects of the blood ritual.

I'm also thinking of my Cousland as a sort of neutral, but good figure. She cares profusely about people, but understands there are sacrifices that need to happen for the greater good.

Rome leans against the balcony, watching the silver moon in the middle of a starless night. It was a warm enough night for spring. She wears a loose nightgown that barely reaches her knees. It's happened. She's finally pregnant. She will not spoil the news, not jinx herself or this child.

Anders had told her and she wept. For the first time since the night before the Arch-Demon, almost two years ago. She hugged him and thanked him profusely. He lamented her tears with a joke how it was mostly her and Alistair, but he was glad to be helpful in the process of baby-making. It had been three months of those damn magic rituals, and watching Anders become more and more, tired? Was that the word she was searching for? He had become weaker while she became stronger.

But what could she do? Absolutely nothing. Alistair needed an heir, and she was stubborn enough to refuse him lying with another woman to achieve it. She'd asked him for a year to try and then she would give up.

She felt lips at her neck, and a pair of arms encircles her waist. She leaned back into the all too familiar touch, the kiss. It was the one absolute pleasure she always let herself fall into.

"Alistair…" Her voice was low, smooth. She pulls out of his grasp, and turns. "We should talk."

He gave a slight groan, and Rome could almost see him visibly deflating.

"Is it something good? Usually when people say 'we need to talk' someone's been beheaded or…"

Rome didn't let him finish. She pats his cheek.

"Or you could let me finish. It might actually be good news for once."

"That works too. Go on. You've got me all curious now."

Rome takes his much bigger hand in her petite one, leading him into their bedroom. She sits Alistair on the much too big bed for just the two of them. She figured dropping subtle hints would fly right over Alistair's head, and just earn her knowing smirks from Zevran.

She lights a few candles, casting the room in a dim glow. She could almost feel Alistair fidgeting.

Rome sighs. "Alistair. I'm pregnant." She didn't say how much of a relief this was. She still thought every single day about Morrigan and the possibility of a bastard child. She didn't linger on it for long; she didn't have the time for that. What would happen if this bastard child looked exactly like Alistair, or Morrigan came back for the throne. Her child would be the true heir.

"You're… What!? How is that even possible?" He didn't sound upset. He sounded shocked.

"Three months of magical rituals that was strenuous to Anders."

"Do you mean blood magic?"

Rome shot him a look. Alistair rewards her with a smile and pulls her down to him.

"I love you so much, Rome."

She doesn't miss the way his hand trails to her stomach. She can imagine becoming bigger and bigger, no longer able to fit into proper armor. Rome will miss her armor most of all. Not the pretty dresses that Leilana insisted she wear. She strokes Alistair's jaw.

"I love you too."

She hadn't thought she'd ever say those words and mean them. She remembers telling Fergus that she would not be tamed, would not be some noble's pretty little trophy. But here she was. Knocked up and married to the highest noble of all, the King.

Though, she didn't really see Alistair the King. She saw Alistair the Grey Warden she fell in love with. The one who gave her the rose so long ago. They had both gone through changes. Alistair had grown more mature, become the King Ferelden needed. He understood that he couldn't be sarcastic all the time anymore. But behind closed doors, he was still her Alistair.

A/N: This seems like a good place to end it, but I don't want to. I like the Dragon Age: Origins universe too much.


	7. New Perspective

A/N: I'm replaying DA2 and holy dear Maker, the Anders timeline makes no sense to me, especially not after playing Awakening. In my game, Anders left the Wardens then came back, saying something along the lines of the Wardens being his lasting home. _How_ he fits into two's timeline is beyond me. But whatever floats Bioware's boat.

She felt bloated, sickly and most of all, she didn't feel like herself. She was tired all of the time. Nonna, her sweet, kind Nonna had this look in her eye when she found Rome passed out in her office. It was a bemused look and then it turned into exasperation. The young Elven girl helped Rome up and into the adjacent bedroom.

"You cannot be doing that, Rome." Nonna lost all formalities at the threshold. "You need plenty of rest for the child. You can't over-exert yourself."

Rome gritted her teeth. Her emotions had been out of control lately. There was no rationality to be had. And she hated it. She hated not being able to mask any of it. She hated when her agitation and annoyance got the better of her and she took it out on someone.

Pregnancy suited most women, but not her. She already loved the child inside of her, but dear Maker she missed her swords. She missed her armor. She missed people not cooing or trying to touch her stomach while she was trying to get a particularly unfavorable stance across to the nobles.

"I can't exactly help it. There's so much to be done, especially since Lissa isn't born yet."

Something passed over Nonna's face. It was a true smile. A grin even.

"You want a little girl? You want a little you running amok?"

"No, but the Maker _cannot_ curse me with anymore men in my life."

"The Maker has a funny sense of humor. You know this."

Nonna's gentle hands pushed Rome back against the bed. She shivered when she pulled the loose dress above her stomach. Nonna hummed in concentration, hands turning a deep blue color. Her hands slid just over the ruler's stomach. Rome's skin tingled from the close proximity to magic. She felt a kick.

"Nonna! Did you feel that? She kicked!" Rome sat up quickly. She was smiling quite brightly. The glow disappeared and Nonna pulled her hands back.

"Don't be silly! Feel!" Rome took Nonna's small hand in her own and guided her hand to the kicking. Lissa kicked quite hard this time. Rome let out a small noise of pain.

"Be nice, Lis. That's just Aunt Nonna."

"Aunt… Nonna?" She asked quietly.

"Of course. And uncle Zevran. Don't think I'd start a little family and not include my closest friends. Now are you done? I'd like a little bit of sleep since someone so rudely interrupted my nap."

"Oh! Of course."

Rome pulled her dress back down before burrowing under the covers.

"Sleep tight, my sister."


	8. Stall Me

This oneshot is the wedding day, and how Rome's settled back in to the life of a noble. But mostly her wedding.

Also, forgive me for the no dialogue thing during the ceremony. In my opinion, anything I put in there would've ruined their moment.

And holy shit this turned out _way_ more than a drabble.

She's quiet. Quiet all through the morning, as servants hurry to and fro. She sits completely still as the Head Servant inspects her. Her back is straight as a stick. Her nerves are frayed. Completely _frayed_. But she doesn't show it. Not to the servants, who need to see her as a strong female figure. Because that's all she's been for the past year and a half. She's been the one gently guiding Alistair in politics. She's taught him more than Eamon or Teagen could have.

Rome has been the one to reintroduce him, properly to the royalty. She's the one who smiles and tells them what they want to hear. For now at least. It's going to get a bit rough because there's not a lot of money in the coffers. Denerim needs to be rebuilt, families from Ostagar that need financial help. Wynne would be chiding her right now. Worrying about matters of state when she's about to be married.

She's also the one who wants to heave her stomach after every party. She misses sleeping in a tent, always on the move. She won't tell Alistair, because he'll feel guilty. But really, it was her choice. What was she supposed to do? Let him walk into the pit of darkspawn all by himself?

The Head Servant tchs quietly at her. She looks a bit annoyed at the fact there isn't much to do. Rome keeps herself well groomed now that she has the means to do it, by the Maker, she will.

Mother would be so proud of her. So instead of spending the morning with extensive beauty treatments, Rome spends the morning in a hot bath. Her hair is washed carefully. She washes her own body, forcing the poor maids to turn their backs to her. She is almost surprised when the maids file out of the bathroom and there's one girl left. A little elf.

"Hello, Nonna."

"My humble Princess-Consort."

Nonna bows before handing her a towel. It's warm to the touch. Rome carefully steps out of the tub, and dries off. Nonna leads her to the bedroom. Leilana's in front a wardrobe, humming.

"Leilana! I thought you were at the Chantry!" Rome lets the excitement spread. She feels it mostly in her heart.

"And miss your wedding? I would never do such a thing."

Rome wants to hug her so bad, but refrains because of the towel wrapped around her. Nonna dries her hair, and brushes it out. She intertwines small braids in her raven hair.

"Now come on, you've got a King awaiting you."

Leilana takes out a corset, a beautiful white and gold piece. She helps tie the corset. It's not _that _tight, and it doesn't pinch. She oftentimes heard noble women that complained of pinching corsets. She pulls on a pair of panties that Leilana has handed her and sees Nonna in the corner of her eye. She's holding a beautiful dress, and Rome's body shakes when she realizes who it belonged to.

"You… It's okay? I thought everything had been lost to Howe's men." It's the first time in a while that Rome's mind refuses to give her a coherent thought. She must look like a blathering moron.

Her eyes water at the thought of her mother, and how she's not here.

"There there. You have us. We know we're not as good but…"

Rome hugs Leilana, and then Nonna. Nonna's slightly awkward about the hug but returns it with as much gusto as she can. Leilana picks the dress from the bed and helps her into it. She studies herself in the mirror. The dress is beautiful. It's pure white, and trails to the ground. The sleeves are long and billow. Little designs of intricately woven together flower designs trail around the bottom. A sash of gold is tied around her waist.

"You look beautiful, Rome." Nonna says, with a small smile.

"Thank you. The both of you."

"You're welcome." Leilana replies, smiling. She sits her down in front of the vanity. Leilana brushes her hair out.

"Nothing to extreme. Okay, Lei? I want to remind people I am marrying Alistair for love and not his position."

She knows Nonna is on the bed, glowering. She can almost feel the annoyance radiating off her.

"They know you aren't. Aren't the Couslands just below the King in terms of power? Why would you marry Alistair when you have your own power?"

It's a good argument. Another thing she had to do. Make Nonna an ambassador for something. The Circle, maybe? She'd be good at it. She'd have to work on the quiet mage though.

Leilana is standing behind her, contemplating.

"What to do… What to do…"

And for the first time in a long time, Rome's senses are tinged with fear. For thirty minutes Rome sits perfectly still as Leilana works with her hair. Her hair is left down, but she braids little sections of hair and manages to work in little jewels.

"Shale would be jealous." She gave a smile.

"I'm marrying Alistair. I think her disgust would outweigh the jealousy."

Rome glances to the balcony. The sun has risen to the height of its journey already, and is starting its descent. A knock on the door breaks her trance.

"Is it safe to come in?"

"Stop being silly and come in, Fergus!" Leilana calls back. Fergus slowly enters, as if he's about to step foot into a room full of rabid Mabari.

"Sister…" He breathes. "You look just like her."

Tears glitter her face, and for once she doesn't care. Fergus hugs her tightly, carefully.

"Come on. Let's not keep Alistair waiting."

Rome wiped her eyes off, before sitting back down.

"If you hadn't made me cry I wouldn't keep my beloved waiting."

She reapplies the kohl, trying to hide the smirk of keeping Alistair waiting. Leilana double checks her makeup before kissing both of her cheeks.

"Good luck!" And she's out the door. Nonna flits out the door after giving Rome an affectionate kiss on the forehead. Fergus offers his arm.

"I remember you saying you'd never marry, forever the wild vixen."

She takes his arm.

"Well. Love never gives you that choice."

Fergus pats the top of her head. They have a short walk to the throne room.

"So I've noticed."

"I love you, Fergus. Even if you are insufferable sometimes."

"Hah! I could say the same for you. You're lucky you're so prettied up today."

"I'd still kick your ass and you know it."

"Keep thinking things that please you, little sister."

It's her last moment as a free woman, as they approach the huge doors. She looks at Fergus and sees nothing but Bryce Cousland.

"They'd be proud of us. The both of us." She determines. She's quite proud of the smile on Fergus' face.

"Of course they would. You're going to be a _queen_. It's still unbelievable. Who would've guessed when we were children?"

She lets out a very unladylike scoff.

"No one, not even mother."

She sees Nonna in the corner of her eye, and she gives a nod. The little Elf disappears from view and the music starts. Rome inhales deeply and slowly lets it out.

"I'd be a terrible brother if I didn't ask this but… Last chance, are you sure?"

She gives a reassuring smile and takes his arm.

"I don't think I've ever been surer about something."

Fergus nods and the guards posted at the double doors open them. Another deep breath and they start walking. At first all Rome sees are people. People with familiar faces. People who owe her their very lives. And then she sees Alistair. He's in ceremonial armor. It's fine armor. Made from the finest silverite and gold available. He only has eyes for her, and she can tell he's a bit flabbergasted. He's grinning so widely you would've thought she was handing delivering him _cheese_.

When they finally approach the steps, Fergus lets her go with a kiss to the cheek. Alistair holds out his hand for her, but instead of taking it right then, the Princess-Consort kneels to the ground. Then she lets Alistair help her up. His smile is still there, and she can't help almost beaming back. Her smile isn't as big as his, but it still conveys the happiness of the moment.

They recite their vows, Alistair promising her everything. The world, the sun, the moon all if she willed it. He promised to take care of her for the rest of her days through everything. That they would stand tall, _together_.

It takes everything in Rome's being not to start crying right there.

She promises the same. She promises to stand beside him, to hold his burdens when they became too much to bear on his own.

The Revered Mother instructs them to exchange rings. The rings are simple; they're made of gold with a little diamond on the top.

They're married now. It's a bloody miracle, considering everything.

Alistair's lips almost crash on hers. She feels his fingers touching the back of her neck and kisses him back with just as much gusto. The way he's kissing her blocks out the cheers from the crowd.

* * *

"Thank the Maker that's over." Alistair groans out as Rome removes each piece of his armor carefully. He leans down for a small kiss and she can't help but oblige.

"What? Not happy to be married to me? Well now you're stuck, Warden." She murmurs, a playful smirk taking over her features. He helps her out of her dress. He runs his fingers through her hair. It's slightly curly from the braids. He unties the corset, after fumbling with it for a few moments. He leads her to the bed and pins her to the silken sheets. His kiss is hungry.

It wouldn't be their first time, not by a longshot. And it would not be their last.

This was her perfection.


	9. Trade Mistakes

The blades plunged into soft, soft skin. Blood poured over her hands, dripping down her spotless blades and staining the stones. There was a soft gurgle when she pulled the blades back out. She felt nothing for the woman beneath her.

She didn't care that the woman wasn't her father. She wanted nothing more than to avenge her dead parents. Her sister in law who taught her all she knew about various poisons and plants. Her sweet little Orion who would never learn to wield a blade or ride a horse or go hunting.

A guard comes at her, fast but not fast enough. She cuts him down before he can lift his blade. No emotion flickers over her face. She slithers in the shadows, silent. He meets her halfway, a grimace over his features. She sheathes her swords, opening her arms for the black haired man. He allows himself to be taken into her arms. She strokes his hair with one hand, slipping a hidden blade out of the sleeve of her robes. She plunges it into his back. She's made sure to puncture a lung.

"How does it feel to be betrayed by someone who you trusted so completely?" She asks Nathaniel as he slides to the ground.

She just watches as he lets out a soft gurgle and his gaze becomes glassy. She carefully steps over the body, careful to not get any blood on her boots.

* * *

She wakes up, gasping. She can't get enough oxygen into her lungs. Alistair's still sleeping, thank the Maker. She's had this same dream for the past three nights. She's always killing Nathaniel and his sister, Delilah. She can never wake until the end, when Nathaniel is finally dead. She crawls out of bed, ignoring how icy the room is.

She grabs a robe that was hastily discarded earlier, wrapping it tightly around her. The freezing stone is unsympathetic to her quivering heart as she treads lightly to her office. She grabs parchment along with a bottle of fresh ink. She picks up a quill, slightly hesitating.

What would she write? That she had murdered him in cold blood in her nightmares and she wanted him to stop by just to quell her childish fears that he was still okay? Rome sighs, resting her hand against her head. An ache swelled in her head until she was pressing at her temples hoping to relieve the pressure. A pair of hands lift her from the chair and she curls against the familiar body.

"What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer for a moment. She's ashamed that Howe still haunts her.

"I've been having nightmares." Rome starts. Alistair is carrying her bridal style back to their room. It's only a couple of rooms from her office. She opens the door for him when they arrive. He sits at the end of the bed, still cradling the woman in his arms. He's watching her, waiting for her to continue.

"I've been having nightmares in which I murder Nathaniel and Delilah. I thought, hoped really, that when I killed Howe it would end all of my pain over my family."

"It didn't though, did it?" He asks. For once, Alistair is serious. And she's grateful. As much as she loves the sharp contrast between their attitudes she couldn't handle the snark right now.

"No. It still hurts so badly. Even though I've patched things up with all of the Howes, my blood still boils. Some primal desire wants their blood spilled for the blood of my family that Howe spilled."

Alistair nods. He's quiet for a moment, and she can see the wheels turning in his head. He's trying to figure out how to say something without sounding cruel or insensitive.

"You're strong. And kind. Kinder than most. You didn't demand that Nathaniel be executed or kill Delilah in cold blood. You could've though. He was a complete bugger at the time towards you. You even gave the poor sap a chance to redeem himself."

She laughs against his chest, not knowing why. She really feels like crying.

"He was a complete asshole. His mother would have been _so_ mortified at his behavior. Then again, he didn't know what his father did. Only that I killed him for all of the wrong reasons."

Alistair squeezes her closer to him and she adjusts herself so she can rest her cheek against his shoulder. She feels imminently better, just telling Alistair about her nightmares. She leans up to kiss him, and instead of him kissing her back, he kisses her forehead.

"I love you Alistair. Thank you."

He smiles at her, and her heart swells.

"Of course. It's nice to be the levelheaded one for once."

* * *

I adore Nathaniel. He really grew as a character in Awakening. It was nice to see that growth. I also think that him and Rome would've been inseparable as children.


End file.
